


Haze

by SilverFliesInBlueSugar



Series: 30+ GabeNath [3]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: 'Happy' is debatable i guess?, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, F/M, Implied eventual happy end, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Recovery, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 19:16:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21397279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverFliesInBlueSugar/pseuds/SilverFliesInBlueSugar
Summary: It spanned a few minutes and lasted years.
Relationships: (kinda?) - Relationship, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Nathalie Sancoeur, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth & Nathalie Sancoeur, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth/Nathalie Sancoeur
Series: 30+ GabeNath [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1539160
Comments: 6
Kudos: 103





	Haze

It had all been distant and faint. Like witnessing something through a bottle while half asleep.

Her vision had been blurry and her hearing was fading in and out. She had felt her hands move, to struggle against _something_, but she couldn't figure out what.

She registered the cold and the pain and the unfamiliar face above her and felt it all connect, and distantly she felt herself scream something. It was disconnected and broken and she could barely hear herself.

Pain lashed, again and again, until eventually the hands on her let go and she felt the pain recede slightly.

She stared blankly up as the sound of footsteps grew more distant, and realized that her head was bleeding.

Slowly, mechanically, shaking and gasping, she wiped the blood away with her wrist. It smeared up to her palm, and she stared at the crimson smear like it was foreign to her.

The memories flooded back.

The party. The drinks. That man.

The hands.

Her skin felt like it was burning, disgusting and painful and slimy, and she flinched violently, breath stuttering in horror, nails raking up against where his hands had been. Where he had touched.

It ached.

She put her clothes back on one piece at a time, and tried to register where she was. It was hard to see, and her glasses had a cracked lens. Combined with the throbbing of her head, her stress, and what was clearly what was left of drug effects wearing off, it was a fruitless effort.

She found the miraculous in her pocket still, and transformed. Slowly, quietly, she found her way back home. The energy pulsing through her kept her going, pushed her forward. 

The moment she got home, she fell apart.

Collapsing onto her knees and detransforming, she began to sob, heavy and broken and tired. Her arms wrapped around herself, choking as she barely managed to make it to the bathroom before she threw up, over and over, clawing at herself, shaking too badly to do anything else. It all hurt so bad. 

She fell asleep to the sound of herself sobbing.

\---

Waking up was a new hell.

She had hoped that it was all a bad dream, but her position, slumped in her bathroom and still in a large amount of pain, didn't allow her to delude herself.

She struggled to stand, eyes watering and struggling to stay open as she roughly wiped the tears away. She wanted nothing more than to just go to bed and lie down forever. To never get up again and fade away.

But...

From her room, her alarm clock rang.

Time for work.

The thought of eating made her sick, and she gagged when she looked at the food in her cupboards. No breakfast this morning, then. Probably not for a while either.

Changing was even harder to get past. Being undressed made her stomach flip with dread, and she had jerked her hands violently away several times, gasping at the feeling of someone who wasn't there. Across the room, the mirror taunted her.

She chanced a look at her reflection, and recoiled. Her eyes were dull and rimmed red; it was extremely obvious that she had been crying. She was pale and she couldn't seem to force her expression to go neutral. She just looked... Scared.

She bit back bile and forced herself to put her clothes on.

She wanted badly to have a shower, but knew she didn't have time. Eventually she settled for just washing her face and brushing her hair (and applying her makeup) attempting to ignore how badly her hands were shaking.

It took a while to leave home, and step in Gorilla's car.

He noticed immediately that something was off, but she waved off his concerned grunt, murmering something about not being able to sleep well last night.

The entire car ride, she felt nauseous. She tried to distract herself by going on her phone and checking the news, but gave up after a few minutes. Hyperized anxiety was flooding her entire body and it was hard to stay still.

She tried her best to distract herself and think of anything else, or to think of nothing at all. To try breathing excersizes, or try and force her body to stop it's almost imperceptible shaking.

When she left the car she jolted slightly, the miraculous sickness striking her for just a second. Gorilla tried to reach out to steady her as he always did, but she jerked violently away, eyes widening and mouth opening as if to scream.

Then the moment passed, and she walked inside without looking back, hands clenched into tight, painful fists.

\---

"Adrien. You should be ready by now" she told the disgruntled teen calmly as he struggled to untangle himself from his sheets. He sighed and looked up at her. "Sorry. I didn't sleep well last night. With that formal party-event thing last night i-"

"Fine" she snapped, cutting him off, turning around. "I'll wait outside. Be quick"

"...Nathalie?" he breathed in confusion, but she didn't hear him as the door closed behind her.

Until he came out, she found her brain working too fast to process. She worked furiously on her tablet, jabbing each button and letter with increasing franticness, gritting her teeth. She just wanted to get her work done as quickly as possible. She didn't know why, but she was desperate for _something, anything_ to do. 

...Perhaps as a distraction.

She cursed herself as she felt her throat closing up and her eyes sting. Why did she feel as if she were about to cry? Nothing was even happening! Her nails dug into the tablet screen, blackening a few pixels as she breathed slowly, trying to regain control of her emotions. It felt like grasping water, and faintly she realized black spots were appearing in her vision.

Adrien tapped her shoulder, and her stomach lurched.

"I'm ready now" he pointed at his bag, looking at her with visible concern. "Nathalie, uh, do you need to maybe sit down? You look like you're going to be sick"

"I'm fine" she responded quickly. Too quickly. She felt like the world was spinning around her. "Everything is fine, you don't need to worry about anything but getting to school right now"

"But-"

"Adrien."

He frowned at her, though it was more thoughtful than annoyed, before nodding. He looked like he was considering something as he walked over to where Gorilla stood, ready to take him to school. He glanced back over his shoulder at her before she left.

The moment he left, she started sobbing.

She didn't understand what was happening, but she couldn't stop, and they gradually grew more hysterical as she tried to force them down. The dizzy feeling returned, and she barely managed to make it to the bathroom before she threw up.

She didn't dare look at herself in the mirror before she left. There was something empty and clawing inside of her.

When she entered the atalier, she had stopped crying and was mostly focused on breathing evenly. The bright lights hurt her eyes and so did the fact that her boss barely even glanced up at her arrival, but she pushed it all to the back of her head.

Time to focus on work.

Surprisingly, the rest of her workday went relatively smoothly. Checking e-mails and scheduling and whatnot was methodical and logical and everything she needed to stay calm. So she let herself become fully engrossed in what normally slightly bored her, and was more productive than she would normally push herself to be. 

Gabriel at least seemed impressed, and had no complaints thus far. She felt pride rise up, only to wince as it was quashed by shame.

What would he think if he knew?

A knot felt like it was coiling in her stomach. 

She kept her face neutral even as the unsettlement rose, and her hands remained still and unshaking. When she left for the day, not a single blink indicated anything out of the normal.

The moment she reached home, she fell onto her bed and didn't move until morning.

The nightmares were the worst she had ever had.

\---

And every day after that remained the same. Gradually she grew sicker, and she knew it, even as she remained outwardly calm. She knew she was dropping weight rapidly (eating made her throw up) and that she was becoming slower and more confused (sleeping became more difficult and she grew used to only having a few hours of sleep per night - or less)

She had to wash several times a day; she felt dirty and wrong no matter how many times she did it. She ended up scrubbing her skin raw and painfully red on multiple occasions.

She felt a little like she was going insane. And all she knew to do was to keep running straight toward her crashing point. Because how could she avoid it?

Flashbacks were common and unavoidable. She had to take medicine to prevent her sickness. Her work was becoming faster but sloppier. She was scared. Just... Scared.

Nearly two weeks after it had occured, Gabriel had simply reached to steady her during a coughing fit, one hand resting on her lower back.

There had been a scream, piercing and sharp and terrified. It took her a moment to realize it was coming from her. Her vision was blurred even with her glasses and she found she couldn't breathe. Her chest had tightened up and trying to inhale felt like sandpaper against her throat. She had fallen, and when he had reached out to help her she had screamed again and pushed back. The pain in her chest was unbearable, and she felt herself dissociate. She was so confused. So much had happened internally so quickly that she didn't know how to cope. 

"-alie. Nathalie! Listen to me! Can you hear me?" a voice snapped. She shook, sobbing, curled up. Who was it? What was going on? Was it _him?_

"Nathalie." the voice was gentler. "Can you tell me what the colour of your turtleneck is?"

Confused and shaking, she looked down. There was a blur of red. "R-red"

"And your shoes? What colour are they?"

She looked further down. "Black" she tried to control her breathing, and found it slightly easier, even as it stuttered.

"How old are you?"

"I'm 28" she felt her hands stop tingling and shaking slightly.

"And when was your birthday?"

"3 months ago" she took in a slow breath, closed her eyes, and then opened them again. Her boss was knelt in front of her, and had a look on his face that she had never seen before.

"Alright, last one" he leant back. "Can you tell me what today's date is?"

She nodded jerkily. "It's the 16th of March, sir"

He offered her his hand, and she let him pull her up until they were both standing. "I..." she brushed herself off, flushed with embarrassment. "I apologise, sir"

"Don't" his brow furrowed. "There's nothing to be sorry for. I just want to know why this happened. You've never reacted like that to my touch before"

Her face paled and she looked away. Dread pooled in her stomach. "I'd rather not say"

"Nathalie, something has clearly drastically affected you, whatever it is. If you will not speak to me, i must insist you speak to a doctor or some form of psychiatric help. I've noticed this sort of irregular behaviour has been going on for at least a week" he said gently.

She swallowed and averted her eyes. "It's nothing. Nothing serious. I'm just... Overreacting" she tried not to think about how hellish this past fortnight had been. How much she had cried and regretted and sometimes just laid there and wondered why. She would get over it soon. She had to. Right?

"I doubt this is an overreaction" he looked her over. "It seems more like trauma"

"It's..." she hesitated. She knew it was trauma, there was little else it could be. But still, calling it that felt strange. Felt stupid, like she was making something from nothing. But she knew it wasn't. "Something happened. At that formal event you, Adrien and i went to. The fashion event" she didn't know why she was saying it. But doing so felt both incredibly relieving and suffocating.

He nodded slowly. "I remember. You vanished partway through; i had assumed you simply tired of it all and went home. I'm assuming something happened then?" he was trying his best to keep his tone neutral even as concern edged in.

"I... I don't remember most of it" she closed her eyes. "I was unconscious until nearly the end of it. I think my drink was spiked"

His face went deathly pale. "You-"

"I just remember waking up after passing out after drinking and... And i couldn't see or do anything. I could barely move. But..." she began to shake, eyes stinging harshly. "But i could still feel-"

"It's okay" he breathed, barely a whisper as he brought her into his arms. "You don't have to continue. I understand. I'm so sorry"

She broke entirely. She was wracked with sobs as she held onto him like a lifeline, and all of the stress she had been feeling collided and coalesced, nearly sending her back to her knees. He held her through it, speaking quietly as she cried, holding on as hard as she could, and it felt like hours passed before she could bring herself to stop, feeling like she had just taken all of her emotions and wrung them dry. All that was left was a hollow emptiness.

He cupped her face. "Do you know what his name was? Or his face?"

She shook more.

"I don't want you to remember it if it will be painful for you. But if i know who it is... I can make sure that bastard pays"

"Show me the attendance list" she said lowly, shakily. "I'll recognise him from that"

\---

In the end, HawkMoth committed his first murder. In the end, Nathalie moved into the mansion. In the end, he spent a large sum to help her get therapy.

In the end it wasn't all okay, but they were trying.


End file.
